


Two Cups of Coffee

by Mrs_Don_Draper



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 04:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Don_Draper/pseuds/Mrs_Don_Draper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mad Men Kink Meme Prompt: Pete is miserable and pissed off about Bob, largely about the fact that Bob got him thinking about things he'd rather not acknowledge about himself.  Now it's the middle of the night, Pete's gotten himself good and drunk and Bob's going to feel his wrath, goddammit, but then winds up crumbling and starts to tear up, disarmed completely by the combination of alcohol and Bob's silent concern. Bob gets him to sit on the couch and makes some coffee. Bob sits next to Pete and just lets him talk, listening intently. Eventually it ends up with Pete in Bob's bed with things happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Cups of Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> http://madmenkinkmeme.livejournal.com/

The relaxation records have really been helping. Things at the office, things with Pete, haven't been good. In fact, if he's being honest with himself, everything with Pete has been completely awful. But least the music is soothing, and if he can focus on that instead—

A knock at his door startles him. Who would be coming over at—oh, was it really that late?— midnight unannounced? It must be urgent. The knocking turns into pound, and he hurries to the door.

It's Pete Campbell.

It's a very intoxicated Pete Campbell.

It's a very angry, intoxicated Pete Campbell.

“I have a bone to pick with you.”

He pushes past Bob into his apartment and waits for Bob to follow him back inside. He hopes Pete got over here safely. Driving drunk was always risky business. This must be urgent indeed. He shuts the door quietly and hopes none of his neighbors heard him barge in.

“What is it, Pete? What's wrong?”

“ _What's wrong!?_ What's wrong. Don't play stupid with me, Bob. I don't know what your agenda is, but I certainly don't like it. You're up to something. You're fucking around in other people's business, and I don't like it. Not one bit!”

Bob sits down on his couch and watches as Campbell paces his living room as he scolds him. This is obviously something that's been on the man's mind for a while, so it might do him good to get it off his chest.

“And now you're trying to meddle in _my_ life. You know my wife has left me and has taken my child away. You knew I was vulnerable. You knew I was vulnerable!”

His voice cracks on the last sentence. Bob knows what he's alluding to. He's sorry that he's obviously upset Campbell to such a degree. He had only thought that he was pursuing a mutual interest.

“You knew what it did to me. Somehow, you knew. That isn't who I am, Bob!”

He quickly takes note of Pete's dewy eyes and trembling lip and realizes that this could potentially get very intense. Pete's voice has been increasing in volume, and Bob really does not want to arouse any suspicion from the other tenants.

“Why don't you sit down, and I'll put on a pot of coffee. It will help calm you down some.”

Pete hesitates and flexes his fingers nervously before sitting down when Bob stands and goes into his kitchen. The room is spinning and his heart is pounding and he doesn't even know why he's here. He misses Trudy. He misses intimacy. He longs for touch. Why is he here? He puts his head in his hands with a groan. What a miserable existence.

It feels like a lifetime before Bob brings him a mug of black coffee. Perhaps this will help sober him up. He takes a big sip. It's bitter and it scalds and it perfectly fits his mood right now. He feels raw and achy. And why is he here? 

The couch dips when Bob sits down next to him. Pete flinches at the imagined touch of their knees.

“I'm not going to hurt you, Pete.”

“Yes, you will. I don't even know why you like me, if you even do. I can't stand feeling like this, Bob!”

Pete puts his mug down on the coffee table and the tears begin to flow freely. Pete doesn't know if Bob put some sort of truth serum in his drink, but suddenly, the words don't stop coming. His interest in boys came early in his life, and his father hated him for it. Even tried to beat it out of him. His fraternity brothers liked to suck his prick because they said he was so dainty, he might as well have been a woman. They called his cock “cute” and “perky” and would suck him until he cried. They liked to tease him, and as embarrassing as it was, it was nice to be wanted. He was someone they could go to. He _wanted_ them to go to him. But father found out somehow and had him transferred to a religious school. He had to confess daily to his sin. His father thought he was cured, and he had thought he had been rid of his urges. He thought maybe it had been quashed out of him.

“And, you, Bob, you were the one that made me realize I was still broken.”

Bob sighs deeply.

“Pete, come with me. You must be exhausted.”

Pete accepts his proffered hand and follows him with only a moment's reluctance into Bob's bedroom. He surrenders himself over when Bob begins undressing the both of them, pressing gentle kisses to exposed skin. Stripped to their underwear, Bob pulls back his sheets and nods for Pete to climb in. Pete thought the coffee would pep him up, but it has only seemed to counteract the booze. Getting into bed sounds like a lovely idea. He doesn't even mind it when Bob curls up behind him, although it does stir up all those emotions again. All those feelings.

“Bob, I don't think—”

“Shhh, don't think. I'll take care of you.”

Pete doesn't even flinch when a hand snakes into his briefs. Bob is gentle with his cock and doesn't make him beg like his frat brother did. Bob whispers sweet things to him about how he's good and whole and not broken, just different. Different from all those other men who don't know how to experience a genuine emotion. Pete moans softly, tears coming from god knew where, until suddenly he was coming in spurts into Bob's fist. Pumping every last drop until he shivered in oversensitivity.

Bob smiles and kisses his cheek. He knows just what Pete Campbell needs. It was simply a matter of Pete realizing it too.

“Do you think you can sleep now?” Bob asks after using some tissue to clean Pete and himself off.

Pete lets out a soft snore in reply.


End file.
